


Life After Lecter

by hereholdmyhobo



Series: After The Fall [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, NSFW, Poor Will, Someone Help Will Graham, fanatic Will, obsessed Will, unhinged Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-02-09 19:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12894921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereholdmyhobo/pseuds/hereholdmyhobo
Summary: After waking up from his coma, Will has to come to terms with losing Hannibal Lecter. His misery is contagious, until he finds the true purpose to his continued life; to make Hannibal proud.[this fic is a direct continuation of the Alternate Ending to I Want My Innocence Back]





	1. Chapter 1

Will spent another few days in hospital before they decided he was well enough to be released. He had undergone a mental health evaluation and had managed to pass, though barely. Given how much media attention there had been following the death of Hannibal, he was forced to come to the conclusion that every word of Jack and Molly's stories really had been true. He had been holding onto the incorrect notion that they were lying to him for another couple of days after he had woken up, but it all made perfect sense. And he hated it. Every movement he made, every word he spoke, every mouthful of food he allowed into his body, and every breath he brought into his lungs was another reminder that Hannibal was gone. The only person who had ever really understood him was completely out of his reach, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to change that fact.  
He had all but shouted at Molly when she kept insisting that he sit in the front of the car, and she eventually relented. They drove back to Maine in total silence, Walt glancing across at his mother while Will sat in the backseat, watching the scenery go by. He raised a hand and traced his fingertip slowly down the window, remembering the last time he'd been in a car. Or rather, the last time he'd thought he'd been in a car. He'd been with Hannibal. He breathed in and let out a shuddery breath, then closed his eyes. It was going to take a lot of getting used to, being back with Molly. He couldn't remember how to feel for her, never mind Walt. He folded his arms and eventually let himself be lulled to sleep by the rocking of the car. Molly and Walt remained silent.  
When the three of them arrived outside their home, Walt was out first. Molly climbed out after hesitating for a moment, glancing at Will in the rear-view mirror. Will, however, looked up at the house with a scowl. He hadn't been awake for long, but he had pretended to be asleep when he'd overheard Walt and Molly's conversation. Neither of them was sure he should have been allowed out of hospital yet, and he shared their sentiment. Molly got Will's things out of the car, and it was that moment Walt opened the front door. There was a sudden out pouring of dogs, and Will's face broke into the first true grin he'd had since he woke up. He was out of the door as quickly as his body would allow, and after an initial uncertainty on the behalf of the dogs, he practically disappeared beneath a pile of whining barks and wagging tails. He laughed and patted, fussing as many of the dogs as he could reach. Soon enough, however, some moved off to greet Molly before running back to the house, but Winston stayed with Will, nudging his arm and settling against him.  
"Hello, boy..."  
Will wrapped his arms around Winston and buried his face in the fur on the dog's back, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. Though he knew it was impossible, he was sure he could smell the cold air that had often whipped around the cabin, the smell of the pines mixed in with the other trees and ever so faintly, the smell of Hannibal's aftershave...  
"Are you...coming in, Will?"  
Just like that the image that had been warming his chest exploded into a thousand tiny, false memories and he snapped his eyes open. He was sitting in the snow in Maine, not sitting on the frost in Williamsport. And he was with Molly, not Hannibal. He looked up to see her standing over him, clutching his hospital bag. Winston was whining slightly.  
"Yeah."  
He reluctantly released Winston and pushed himself to his feet, brushing the snow off himself. Winston stayed close to him as he trudged up to the house, the building looming overhead like a nightmare. When he stepped inside, any and all hope of this being a fever dream was snatched away as reality set in. Again. For what was probably the fourth time he felt like he was watching Hannibal dying again. His eyes filled with tears and he sniffed, reaching down. Winston nudged Will's fingers with his nose, and Will managed to fight back a sob.  
Molly closed the front door behind them, shutting out the whole, wide world that no longer contained Hannibal Lecter. Will closed his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose, letting his hands wander over Winston's head and shoulders.  
There was a pregnant pause before Molly spoke, and her voice was small, timid.  
"Do you...would you like a cup of tea?"  
"No. Thank you."  
"Would you like anything?"  
"No." Will looked at her over his shoulder. "I just want to be alone."  
Molly nodded, stepping round Will and into the living room, where she sat on the sofa and clutched Walt close against her. She wasn’t surprised to see he was crying.  
Will breathed in deeply again, then turned and slowly walked up the stairs, letting his hand skirt over the railing. Winston followed, close to Will's heels. It was only when Will reached the landing and was faced with returning to the bedroom he'd shared with Molly that he sank to the floor, tears obscuring his vision. He cried into Winston's back; he'd never felt so lost in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

Christmas morning dawned, and Will opened his eyes to a face-full of Winston's fur. He pushed himself to a sitting position, the sounds of empty bottles clinking together explaining the gentle throbbing in his head. He grunted and rubbed his eyes, and Winston got to his feet, nuzzling into Will's elbow. Will raised his arm and draped it over the dog, allowing his face to be licked. After a few moments he pushed Winston away and used the sofa to pull himself to his feet. He must've either fallen asleep on the floor, or rolled off the sofa some-time in the night; he didn't quite remember. He reached over and picked up his trousers, then tugged them on before walking the few paces to the Christmas tree. He turned it on, glancing at the pile of presents underneath. He ran a hand into his hair, then turned and started up the stairs. He'd climbed up halfway before he glanced upwards, his eyes locking with Molly's. He froze, gripping the hand-rail tightly.   
"G-...good morning."   
"Morning."   
She shifted her robe slightly, tightening it, covering herself more, as if the sight of her nightdress would somehow offend Will. That wasn't the problem; the sight of her offended Will, but not as much as it had the day before. It was Christmas, after all, and they were still a family. Albeit a rather messed up one.   
"I was going to shower before you got up."   
"I've been awake for hours."   
Will nodded. Neither of them said anything for a few moments, but the sound of Walt's bedroom door faintly clicking open made them both look up.   
"Would you like some breakfast, Will?"   
"Please." Will managed a small smile before continuing up the stairs. He moved passed Molly, the space between them too close for his liking, and walked to the bathroom. As he closed the door behind himself he looked at Walt, who smiled feebly. Will returned the gesture. With the door closed and locked, he finally felt like he could breathe. It was too much too soon; being out of the hospital and spending Christmas day with the two people he didn't feel he belonged to anymore. He let out a sigh before turning on the shower, and as he washed the stink of whisky off of himself, all he could think about was Hannibal. 

Once out of the shower and dressed, Will was feeling a lot better. His headache was still there, but it had lessened considerably. He knew that eating and drinking something would make it disappear completely, and he might actually be able to enjoy the day. He finished tucking his shirt in, then left his and Molly's bedroom and headed downstairs. He was in need of a haircut, badly, but he would settle for a brush for the time being. He found Molly and Walt in the dining room, putting the final touches to the breakfast table. They both stopped what they were doing when Will walked in, though instead of looking afraid, they both smiled. Walt's was slightly strained, but it was a smile none-the-less. Will managed one in return.   
"You look better now."   
"I feel better." Will stood behind a chair, gripping it tightly. The food that Molly had made (pancakes with bacon and eggs) smelt great, but Will's stomach constricted all the same. He swallowed.   
"Well, it's made for eating, not staring at."   
Molly sat herself down, followed by Walt. Will looked between them both for a few moments before he seated himself, then poured himself some coffee. He sipped it, savouring the taste before he swallowed, letting out a groan. He then started eating slowly. The three of them ate in silence for a few minutes before Molly spoke.   
"Do you want to walk the dogs before we open presents, Walt?"   
"Yeah!"   
"Alright then." Molly smiled lovingly at her son before turning the same smile on Will; it hurt him to look at her. "Do you want to come?"   
"Sure. It'll probably do me some good." He had been laid up in a hospital bed for months. He had some muscle mass, as well as weight, to regain. Perhaps drinking that much the night before was a bad idea. 

The rest of breakfast passed without incident, and their walk with the dogs woke something up in Will that had apparently still been asleep. By the time they returned to the house, he was smiling freely, even joking with Walt, and it didn't make him feel physically sick to have had his arm locked with Molly's. To their neighbours they probably looked as normal as they always did, and Will hadn't thought about Hannibal the entire time they were out. That changed, however, when it came to opening presents. Part of him was hoping to find Hannibal's familiar handwriting on one of the labels, but a bigger part of him was relieved that he didn't. He got the usual, a couple jumpers, socks, a new shaving set, pretty typical man-of-a-certain-age type presents. But it was the last one he opened, the one he hadn't realised he'd been expecting, that set him off. He ripped the paper off, not looking at the label, and his heart sank. His smile faltered and the box itself triggered a memory; standing in Hannibal's office, the man behind him, smelling him.   
"Old Spice..." He swallowed hard, hating the box but loving it at the same time. He tried to breathe in but his chest hurt. Molly and Walt, who had been too busy figuring out one of Walt's presents, noticed how Will's demeanour had changed, and they looked at the box in his hands. Of course, neither of them understood, probably never would. They did look concerned, however, when a single tear splashed on the wrapping paper.   
"Will...? Are you alright, love?"   
Will sniffed and lifted his head. Molly's frown increased. "Will?"   
"I'm fine." He wiped his eyes with his sleeves, then set the box to one side before getting to his feet. "I just...I need some air. You carry on, I'll be back." He hurried out of the room and outside, not caring that it was only seventeen degrees and snowing. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, closing his eyes. Hannibal had hated that aftershave, but it was probably one of the few remaining links to the man that Will had. He wouldn't be able to go to Hannibal's home, and there was no grave for him to visit. Which he thought was wholly unfair; Jack had suggested seeing his death certificate would offer some kind of closure, but it hadn't. It had only really made things worse. At least a grave was more final. He shivered, the cold getting to him, but he didn't really care. He was thinking about a plot for Hannibal, adorned with only the finest flowers, a white marble gravestone with neatly carved lettering. Alone, in its own space, perhaps with a plot beside it for Will. It was as he thought about that, that it came to him. It was so simple Will was surprised it hadn't come to him in sooner; Hannibal's ashes. His eyes snapped open.   
He would claim Hannibal's ashes, regardless of what might stand in his way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay so, i know diddly squat about wills, but i think you get it.  
> also, i just realised that this fic is gonna kill me.

It took Molly every ounce of her strength to convince Will to wait until after the New Year to get in touch with Jack about Hannibal's ashes. The more she forced him to postpone, the grumpier he became until he was sleeping in the spare bedroom. In fact, he spent most of his time in there, hardly eating. The only company he seemed to want was the dogs, and if they weren't whining and scratching at the door to be allowed in, she could hear them barking and growling, obviously playing with Will. She continued life as normal with Walt, spending time together in the day and eating together in the evening. Occasionally Will would emerge to return some uneaten food, though half the time his plates were empty. Whether he'd eaten it or the dogs had, she never asked, but as January fourth dawned bright and cold, Will sat at the breakfast table with a ravenous appetite. He also seemed to be in a good mood, and though Molly knew it probably had nothing to do with her, she was glad to see him smiling all the same. She'd wanted to ask him about the dream he'd had, those five months he'd spent with Hannibal, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. She couldn't understand, and she didn't want to.   
"Just...just wait a bit, alright?"   
"Why?" Will was tugging on his coat. He then fought with the dogs so he could get his boots on. Molly watched with an amused expression.   
"The weather report said it was going to snow again. I'd rather you didn't go driving in it."   
"I've driven in worse."   
"I worry about you. I still love you, Will."   
Molly's words made Will pause. He looked up at her from the floor, frowning slightly. He felt something stirring in his chest for her, but it wasn't making much of an effort. He supposed he still loved her as well, in his own way. He wondered if it would return to the strength it had done when they first got married.   
She seemed to know what he was about to say, as she held up a hand. "You don't have to say it back, Will. I get it. Things are...difficult for you right now."   
Will finished tying his boot laces (with very little help from the dogs) then got to his feet. He studied Molly's face. "Thank you for understanding."   
"I don't understand, Will, that's the problem. But...I will support you through this. For better or for worse, remember?"   
Will couldn't help but smile, but he felt a stab of guilt all the same. It had been the holiday season and he'd made it dark and gloomy. Even if not entirely, he knew that, while Molly and Walt had been having fun together, they were thinking and worrying about Will. He reached out a hand that was trembling slightly and brushed his knuckles gently against Molly's cheek. She inclined her head towards his touch, then raised her hands and wrapped her fingers around his. He stared at her fingers, then looked at her face. She really was beautiful. And he knew why he'd loved her, and knew why he'd married her. But...   
They were both brought out of their reverie by a knock at the door. Will answered it, and was extremely surprised to find himself face to face with Jack Crawford, and another man he didn't know.   
"Jack."   
"You're looking good, Will."   
That was a lie, and everyone present knew it. Yet nobody said anything else on the subject.   
"What are you doing here?"   
"I called him."   
Will looked round at Molly, his eyebrow raised. Jack continued. "She told me that you were keen on claiming Doctor-…"   
"Hannibal."   
"...Lecter's ashes. Yes."   
"And?" Will looked from Jack to the other man and back again. "Do you have them with you?"   
"As a matter of fact, we do. This is Mister Hutchins. He is the executor of Doctor Lecter's will."   
Will felt a chill that had nothing to with the cold air blowing into the house. "Hannibal's will?"   
"Yes. May we come in."   
After standing there for another few moments, Will stepped to the side and started tugging off his coat. He kicked off his boots, almost falling over, then followed after the others. Molly had led them into the living room before disappearing into the kitchen to get coffee. Will sat himself opposite the lawyer, watching him intently.   
"Did you know that Doctor Lecter had a will?" Hutchins asked, opening his briefcase and taking out papers. Will shook his head. "Well, Mister Graham, he has you down as his beneficiary."   
Will looked from Jack to Hutchins. "Me?"   
"Yes. It seems you had quite the impact on his life, Mister Graham."   
Will swallowed hard. "There was nobody else named?"   
"No. Just you."   
Will dropped his gaze to his knees. Hannibal had left him...what? Everything? Nothing? He looked up again as Hutchins sorted through his papers, and he couldn't help but look at the other bag he had with him. Molly returned carrying a tray with four mugs of coffee, and after handing one to the three men, she sat with her own cradled in her hands. She looked at Will, noting how tense he was.   
"Alright then, Mister Graham." Hutchins set a bunch of papers on the coffee table, and right there, in Hannibal's particular flourish, was his name. "This is the last will and testament of one Hannibal Lecter."   
With shaking hands, Will lifted the papers. Hannibal had touched these sheets. He felt a lump forming in his throat, and he ran his fingertips gently over the familiar handwriting.   
"He left all of his properties to you, as well as all of his earthly belongings. Besides what the FBI had taken as evidence against him."   
Will was barely listening; he was still lightly fingering the writing on the paper. Evidence that Hannibal Lecter had existed. That it hadn't all been some kind of horrible nightmare. He sniffed, fighting against that all too familiar prickling feeling in the corners of his eyes.   
"It was also stated in his will that, following his death, that his remains were to be delivered on to you."   
Hutchins reached down, catching Will's attention. The lump got bigger as a plain urn was pulled out of the other bag. Will's eyes followed it from the floor to over the coffee table, where his own hands reached out and took it. He studied it for a few moments before bringing it close against his stomach, wrapping his arms around it. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, feeling his breath catch in his throat, his shoulders shaking. He let out a sob and the tears flowed freely. He held onto the urn tighter.   
The rest of Jack's visit passed in a blur, at least for Will. When he and Hutchins finally left, Will sat himself down in the living room, still clutching Hannibal's ashes as tightly as he could. Molly sat down nervously next to him, and she was grateful that all of Will's focus was on that urn. She detested it, what it contained and what it meant for her and her household. She had watched with horror as Will clutched the damned thing like it was the only glass of water in a vast desert, and not something that contained what was left of the monster that set a psychopath on her and her son. Had Will forgotten that? Or was he so caught up in that dream of his to be thinking in reality? Still, she had to support him, so she tried to form an expression of sympathy and concern as she gently rested her palm on Will's knee. She couldn't believe the words that then came from her mouth.   
"Shall we find a place for him?"   
Will looked at her sharply. "What?"   
Molly swallowed. "Shall we find a place for him?" Saying it again left a bitter taste in her mouth.   
Will looked down at the urn again and shook his head. "I know you don't want him here."   
Molly moved her hand from Will's knee and swallowed. "I'm sorry, Will."   
"You won't have to look at him. Don't worry."   
And with that, Will stood up and retreated back to the spare room. Molly sighed heavily, sinking back against the sofa.   
Will lay himself down on the bed, curling up as much as he could, hugging Hannibal's ashes close to his chest. He closed his eyes and planted a tender kiss on the lid of the urn.


	4. Chapter 4

Will woke up early the next morning, even before Walt woke up for school, showered as quietly as he could, got dressed and left the house. He had Hannibal's house keys in his hand, the keyring looped around the middle finger of his right hand as he drove. He had hardly slept the night before, unable to think of anything except Hannibal, and the glorious time his mind had invented of them together. The thrill of killing he had experienced, mixed with the passion and the pleasure during their love-making had led to him tossing and turning all night, often lying in a sweaty heap, staring up at the ceiling. Several times he'd felt a stirring in his loins and he'd forced himself to ignore it, though it got more and more difficult as dawn approached. It was around then that he decided he would just to Hannibal's old house and wander through the rooms. He had no end objective in mind other than simply being there, alone with his thoughts. He knew it was unhealthy, and he knew it was beyond unreasonable, but it was something he had to do all the same.   
He stopped the car outside Hannibal's house and rubbed his eyes. He'd stopped a few times on the drive, but the lack of sleep the night before was taking its toll. He'd lost count of the amount of coffee he'd drunk; he may as well have not bothered. He yawned before climbing out of the car, slipping the keys off of his finger. His palm had indentations of the keys there, and his middle finger looked slightly swollen and angry, but he didn't care. He walked up the familiar steps, looking up at the dark and quiet house. He hadn't set foot there for years, and he had no idea what he would find.   
He stopped outside the front door and took a deep breath, then unlocked the door and pushed it open. A musty smell greeted him, as well as a waft of dust. He stepped into the house, letting the front door swung shut behind him; it slammed and he was shrouded in darkness. He breathed in again, half hoping to catch the familiar smell of Hannibal, but all that reaches his nostrils is the same musty smell from before. He reaches out in the darkness, looking for (Hannibal?) a light switch, and he eventually finds one, flicking on the light. He blinks, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the sudden change and he shrugs off his jacket. He all but ignored the living room, a space he had hardly ventured, instead choosing to walk through to the dining-room. Though the clean-up crews had been and gone, Will could still see the tell-tale signs of forensic detectives having worked there, as well as the movement of the FBI. On everything was a thick layer of dust, which disguised a great deal of the work that had been done there previously. It was almost heart-breaking to see such a room having fallen into disuse, but it was the kitchen that was Will's real goal.   
Taking a deep breath, he passed through the doorway. Almost immediately echoes of the past came calling to him, and he could still make out his and Abigail's blood stains on the floor. There were also markings around the pantry door from where Jack had hidden in there from Hannibal during his murderous rage. He was sure that, if he breathed in deeply enough, he would be able to detect the faint traces of copper in the air. Letting out a sigh, Will sank to the floor, sitting in the spot he had lay in while he watched Abigail bleed to death. He slowly moved onto his side, lying back against the kitchen cabinets, half wishing that he was adding fresh stains to the floor. He closed his eyes, picturing the scene from the view he would have had. He had deserved what Hannibal did to him; he had deceived him after all. He should have known that Hannibal would have figured it out. He was too smart to not have realised it was all too good to be true. And where had they ended up? Hannibal was dead anyway, and Will was left to suffer alone.   
"Will."   
His eyes snapped open and he sat upright suddenly, sure he had just heard Hannibal calling him. He looked around the room and got to his feet. No, of course, he was just imagining things. He missed the way his name tumbled out of Hannibal's mouth, the way he had looked at him. He recalled how Hannibal had touched him that night on the bluff and he let out a whine as he covered his face. He had never felt love like that; love, adoration, worship and fear all rolled into one. It had been intoxicating, those few moments, just standing there in each other's arms. Why, why did he have to make those few steps off the bluff? Why couldn't he have just let them live?   
He lowered his hands and let out a roar of pain, slamming his fists down on the kitchen counter. As he looked down at his hands, tears splashed against the surface and he closed his eyes. Lingering in the kitchen was a bad idea. He pushed himself away from the counter and wandered back into the hall, where his eyes landed on the stairs. He slowly started up them, his fingers cutting a swathe through the dust. He'd never been upstairs, and though he was itching to really explore the whole house, there was only one room he was interested in, and he found it easily. He pushed open both the doors and found himself overwhelmed with emotion again. More tears rolled down his face and he struggled to control himself enough to even be able to set foot in the room. Grief was the emotion that greeted him first, followed by anger, jealousy and happiness. He'd never really given it much thought, but being in Hannibal's bedroom was like a dream come true.   
The bed had been stripped, but it didn't take Will very long to find some sheets and a couple pillow cases. He didn't make the bed fully, only wanting to know what it would be like to lie on Hannibal's bedding. He kicked off his shoes before he climbed onto the bed, momentarily overtaken by excitement before he remembered that Alana Bloom had been on this bed. In this bed. She had lain with Hannibal, possibly on the very sheets that Will found himself on, and he let out another cry of pain as he threw the pillows across the room. He then slipped off the bed, backed into the wall and brought his knees to his chest. He sat there and cried into his knees for what felt like hours, until he finally managed to calm down enough to raise his head. He sniffed, his eyes landing on the boxes sitting near the wardrobe. He crawled over to them and opened them, instantly greeted with the smell of Hannibal. Or, at the very least, the washing detergent that was used on his clothes that he was so used to smelling. He pulled out a handful of shirts and brought them to his face, inhaling the scent deeply. He then, seemingly having an idea, dropped the shirts in a heap on the floor as he got to his feet, wandering into the bathroom and rooting through everything he found there. He eventually found what he was looking for; Hannibal's cologne. He walked back into the bedroom as he sniffed it, grabbing a couple shirts as he passed the boxes and climbing back onto the bed.   
"Hannibal..." He whispered into the room, letting his word linger in the air as though he was waiting for a response.   
He set the cologne bottle on top of the shirts and started unbuttoning his own almost frantically, throwing the garment into the floor and out of sight before lifting up one of Hannibal's and pulling it on. It was slightly too long in the arm, and slightly too big, but Will didn't care. He brought the cuffs up to his nose and inhaled, closing his eyes. A hum escaped him as he let his hands fall slowly, caressing his own neck and chest. His fingertips lingered on the scar Hannibal had given him and he opened his eyes, lifting the cologne bottle and applying some to his own neck, then the shirt he was wearing. He dropped the bottle back onto the bed and resumed running his fingers over his skin, desperately convincing himself they were Hannibal's hands, Hannibal's fingers trailing over his chest, circling round his nipples. He breathed in deeply and let out a soft moan as his hands dropped to his trousers. He unfastened his belt hastily, then his trousers, before pushing them down along with his underwear.   
Will opened his eyes and looked down at himself, already semi-hard. He rolled onto his back and kicked off his trousers and boxers, then tugged off his socks before getting back onto his knees. He spat on his palm then reached down, taking a shaky breath. He rubbed his thumb over the tip of his cock as he gripped the shaft, letting out a whine. He started stroking slowly, bringing the cuff of the other sleeve up and breathing in deeply. Closing his eyes once more he let his mind go to work, convincing himself it was Hannibal's hand again, that Hannibal was behind him, rolling his own hard cock against Will's backside. A louder moan escaped his lips as he stroked faster, gripping himself harder, breathing in deeper. He let his head fall back as he continued stroking, his hips bucking, trying to imagine how it would feel to have Hannibal thrusting into him mercilessly, bringing him closer and closer to orgasm without even having to touch him. His moans grew louder and louder, more and more desperate as he kept stroking his cock.   
"Hannibal!" Will practically screamed, thick ropes of his come landing over the pile of shirts, on the sheets. His cock pulsed as his orgasm passed, and he collapsed onto the bed, panting and trembling. He lay there, breathing heavily, fighting against the pulls of sleep but ultimately unable to resist it. He drifted into unconsciousness, and his dreams consisted of him being fucked by, and eaten by, Hannibal, in various rooms of his house.   
He woke with a start, partly after witnessing Hannibal serving Will's balls in a soup, but mostly because his dreams were disturbed by an incessant ringing sound that sounded somewhat distant, but grew louder and louder as Will clawed his way back to the waking world. He sat bolt upright, forgetting where he was but remembering soon enough. He then realised that the ringing sound was his cell phone, tucked somewhere in his trouser pocket. He looked around the room, then scrabbled towards the sound. When he pulled the device out of his pocket, his heart sank when he saw it was Molly, and that he had missed no less than ten calls from her. He answered begrudgingly.   
"Hello."   
"Will? Oh, thank goodness. Where the hell are you? I've been worried sick!"   
Will quickly checked the time and discovered he'd been at Hannibal's for hours. Heck, he'd been out of Maine for hours, and he hadn't told Molly where he was going, or even left a note. He couldn't really blame her for sounding quite so hysterical.   
"Don't worry; I'm in Baltimore." Will went to rub his face with his hand, but didn't like the prospect of covering himself with come. He used the cuff of his sleeve instead, only then realising he was still wearing Hannibal's shirt.   
"Baltimore?! What on earth are you doing there?!"   
"I'm at Hannibal's. Guess I fell asleep."   
There was silence on the line as Molly tried to compute what Will had just said. When she spoke again, she didn't sound too happy. "And you didn't think to leave a note?"   
"It was a spur of the moment thing."   
"Will, I know how long it takes to drive to Baltimore. I've done it. Several times. While you were in hospital."   
Will let out a sigh; how did he know him being in hospital was going to be brought up.   
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'll fly down next time; it'll take less time."   
"Next time?"   
"Well, yeah. This is my house now after all."   
Another pause from Molly. Will was sure he would hear her brain ticking, trying to come up with some kind of reply.   
"This is your _home_ , Will."   
"This is still now my house. _Our_ house."   
"I will never set foot there if I can help it."   
Will smiled at Molly's response; that was exactly what he wanted to hear.   
"That's fine by me."   
"Are you coming home today or not?"   
Will sighed and considered his options. He could spend a few more hours soiling more of Hannibal's old clothes, perhaps exploring more of himself in the process, or spend hours in a car driving back to a miserable house with a more than slightly pissed off wife. Though staying was the more appealing option, he knew what he had to do.   
"I'll come home."   
"Good."   
"Mm."   
Will looked down at the shirts and smirked; he knew a good dry cleaner in Maine.   
"I might bring some things with me though, if that's okay."   
"I suppose." Molly replied stiffly; he could feel the tension even over the phone.   
"Thank you, Moll. I'll be home soon." And, because it felt like the right thing to do, he added, "I love you."   
"I love you." Molly's voice softened somewhat, though she didn't like the idea of Will bringing anything back with him.   
"See you soon."   
Will hung up, then lay back down on the bed. He pulled the shirts over his face and inhaled, smelling himself as well as Hannibal. It was enough to get him hard again.


	5. Chapter 5

Will left the bedroom in a mess, deciding to clean up the next time he was there. He grabbed a few of Hannibal's shirts and found a suitcase, then neatly folded them before setting them inside. He raided the bathroom, taking Hannibal's cologne and various bath products, then headed downstairs. Finding himself in the kitchen again, he ran his fingers over the counters as he walked, stopping in front of a small box labelled recipes. He flipped open the lid and looked through the first few, recognising some of the dishes. He smiled, then closed the box and added that to the suitcase. He looked through the kitchen once more before he left, making sure to lock the front door before heading down to his car. After climbing into the driver's seat, he glanced up at the house, then started the engine and pulled away from the curb. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, still able to smell Hannibal's cologne as he drove.  
When he arrived back home, finally, Molly was a combination of relieved and furious, and she let him know all about it. Even before he'd stopped the car she had appeared at the front door, a frown on her face. As he got out and gathered his things, she started arguing with him, and the only thing that stopped her was the spare bedroom door being slammed in her face. She stomped off after that, leaving Will to sulk on the bed, staring at the wall. When he was sure he'd calmed down enough (and that Molly wasn't about to start shouting again), he calmly walked downstairs. He found her sitting in the living room, sipping a mug of tea. Her cheeks were wet, as though she'd only finished crying a short time ago. He let out a sigh, then sat down next to her, resting his elbows on his knees. Neither of them said anything for a few moments before he glanced at her.  
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I was going."  
Molly sniffed and wiped her face with her palm. "Did you find what you were looking for?"  
Will sat back on the sofa, his head about level with Molly's shoulders. "Sort of. The ghosts haven't moved on."  
He focused on a spot on the carpet as he frowned. He could still feel Abigail there, as well as Hannibal, but there was also a part of him still trapped inside that house. The part of him that Hannibal had succeeded in killing that night in the kitchen. Molly simply nodded and sipped some more tea. Will swallowed and glanced at her, but she didn't look at him.  
"I did find something, though. Some semblance of peace."  
"Peace enough to keep you here with me?"  
Molly rested her forehead against her mug as she turned her gaze to Will. He looked up at her and they locked eyes. He didn't want to lie to her, at least not directly.  
"Maybe." He smiled. Molly managed a feeble smile in response, and Will realised just how tired she looked. No, not tired; she was exhausted. He shifted his position so that one leg was tucked beneath himself and he leaned closer to her, pushing his elbow into the back of the sofa, resting his head on his palm. "Hey..." He raised his other hand and stroked some hair from her face gently. "I really am sorry if I scared you. It wasn't my intention to stress you any further."  
Molly smiled again. She went to wipe another tear from her cheek as it fell, but Will caught it gently with his knuckles. He then cupped her cheek and brought her closer, catching her lips with his lovingly. She practically melted against him, returning the kiss just as softly. When they broke apart Will wasn't surprised to see that she was crying again. She let out a light laugh and set her mug down, then wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands. He gently rubbed the small of her back.  
"I know that this...this _version_ of you is only temporary, Will..." She sniffed and reached for a tissue. "...it's like you went away and you never came back...only the shape of you came back to me..." She glanced at Will as though expecting him to start yelling, or to disappear upstairs in a sulk, but Will sat on the sofa, his hand still on her back, staring at her shoulder. He swallowed and looked down at the space between them before shifting himself again, crossing his arms and sinking into the arm of the sofa. "...I don't want you to think that I'm being unsupportive I just...I know the last seven or eight months have taken their toll on you I..." She shook her head, then covered her face for a few moments and sighed heavily. "I don't know..."  
Will licked his lips, watching Molly's actions.  
"I don't know how to help you. I don't know what to do or say to make you feel better. I don't even know if you want to stay here..."  
Will dropped his gaze back to the sofa. Molly risked a glance at him again before she continued.  
"And then you disappear for a whole day without telling me where you're doing, only for me to find out you went to... _Hannibal's_..." Another laugh escaped her and she shook her head before finally looking at Will again. "...and when you come back you're you again, but I can still see that...it's not you..." She pulled a face and let out a groan, resting her cheek on her palm. "I don't know what to do."  
Will breathed in deeply. "I don't think there's anything _you_ can do, aside from being patient."  
Molly closed her eyes. "I'm trying to be."  
Silence fell between them again, and neither of them really looked at the other. Sure, there were a few glances, but nothing stuck. All that could be heard was the steady ticking of the clock on the mantle, until Will sighed again.  
"I've been considering returning to work."  
Molly lifted her head and looked at Will properly. "Really?"  
Will shrugged. "I don't see why not. I can't just sit around and mope all day. It'll give my mind a welcome distraction from Hannibal."  
Something about the way Will said Hannibal's name made Molly uneasy. Had she noticed it before? Had it always been there? It was almost like reverence, respect...or love.  
"Would Jack have you back? After...everything?"  
Will laughed lightly. "I might have to ask him nicely. And he may have to ask the board first. I didn't exactly leave with the best of reputations. And they sure as hell would want to make sure I was mentally sound before letting me anywhere near students again." He smiled. "I would probably have to see a psychiatrist either before or during. But, I think he would have me back. I mean, I haven't been arrested yet, have I?"  
Though Will found the concept of being thrown back into the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane amusing, Molly blanched at the thought. Watching Will while he was in a coma was one thing, but watching him languish behind bars was something else entirely. She wondered how Jack Crawford and Alana Bloom had managed it in the first place. And then she got back to her main issue with Will's attitude towards Hannibal; he was the cause of a lot of Will's troubles over the time they'd known one another. How could he just forget all of that and fall in love with him? She watched Will as he smiled at her, then stood up, saying something about coffee, and she just couldn't wrap her head around it.  
Why was Will so enamoured with a man who seemed hell bent on destroying his life?


	6. Chapter 6

"You have a visitor, Jack."   
Before Jack had even looked up, Will stepped into his office. He had his hands buried in his pockets and the visitor's badge pinned to his chest looked slightly out of place. Still, he looked well, like he'd had a few good night's sleep and plenty of good food.   
"Will! It's good to see you!"   
Jack stood up, shaking Will's hand before indicating that Will could take a seat, which they both did.   
"To what do I owe the pleasure?"   
Will smiled, unbuttoning his jacket as he sat. "My reasons are two-fold."   
"Ahh, I thought as such."   
"I wanted to see how you were. And...possibly ask if you think there's any chance I could come back to work."   
"Hm..." Jack studied Will, from the way he sat to the way he was looking at him. He was quite surprised to find Will was making, and maintaining, eye contact. "Well, I'm doing very well. Things have been rather quiet around here lately, but there's still plenty of work to be done. Plenty of psychos still out there."   
Will nodded, smiling slightly.   
"As for you returning to work, I would love to have you around again. But we may have to convince a few people."   
"I thought that was the case. No doubt my psychological state will be an issue."   
"Always was, with you."   
Will chuckled. "True."   
"Would you consider seeing a psychiatrist?"   
"I'm on my way to ask her when I've finished here. Depending on the answer."   
Jack frowned. "You're thinking of asking Alana?" Will simply nodded. "That's brave of you. Do you think she'll say yes?"   
"She always had a professional curiosity about me. What better way to satisfy the itch than to actually scratch it?"   
"You make an excellent point." Jack thought for a few moments; Will certainly seemed to be back to his usual self, perhaps with a few differences. It would make a nice change having him back again, but there would be issues they would have to overcome. Some within the FBI still think he had something to do with Hannibal's escape. "I'll make an appointment to discuss your reinstatement."   
"Fantastic. I can't wait to hear the verdict."   
Will pushed himself to his feet and Jack followed suit. They shook hands again, smiling. It was only when Will turned that his face turned impassive. He buttoned up his jacket again and left the building, handing his visitor's badge back in at reception and returning to his car. He glanced up at the building as he climbed into his car, feeling nothing but loathing. Still, it would be good for him to be back at work, rather than thinking about Hannibal all day. As he started the engine he thought about his next visit, and how well it might go compared to meeting with Jack. 

-/- 

Will reached out of the car window and pressed the intercom button. While he waited for an answer he looked up at the magnificent house. The last time he had been at the Verger Estate, he certainly hadn't driven himself there. He didn't think he would ever look at the house again; oh, how things have changed.   
"How can I help you?"   
"Hi, my name's Will Graham. I'd like to see Doctor Bloom."   
No doubt whoever was behind the speaker box was checking a list of people who weren't allowed in. He wondered if his name was on there for a few moments, but as the gates started opening, it was obvious he wasn't.   
"I'll let her know you're here."   
"Thank you."   
Will drove the rest of the way up to the house, loving the crunching sound of his tires against the gravel. He shut off the engine and climbed out of the car, buttoning up his jacket as he did so. He breathed in deeply and headed up to the house. He hadn't even reached the front door when it opened. Alana looked somewhat pleased, anxious and curious.   
"Will! You're looking well!"   
"Thanks. So're you."   
They smiled and exchanged a slightly awkward hug before Alana indicated Will could enter. He did so, and she closed the door behind them both and took him into what he assumed was now her office. He looked around the space appreciatively.   
"So, are you just visiting all your old friends or do you have another reason for being here?"   
Will couldn't hide his smirk. He buried his hands in his trouser pockets and looked at Alana, taking in her posture; she had her arms crossed and she was standing next to her desk. She looked well. Very well, in fact. As though she had long accepted Hannibal's death, as though he hadn't been an influencing part in her life.   
He hated that.   
"I'm very strongly considering going back to work, and while Jack seeks out the permission necessary, he suggested I find myself a psychiatrist."   
"And you assumed I would be happy to take up that role?"   
Will shrugged. "I don't see why not. You've always had a professional curiosity about me, after all."   
"Will..." Alana let out a sigh, dropping her arms and tapping her fingertips against her desk. "I think the only person who would be able to help you right now isn't available to do so."   
"You mean Hannibal?"   
Alana visibly stiffened at the mention of his name, and Will logged the memory of her doing it. He wanted to savour it over and over again.   
"Of course."   
"Please, Alana. You're my only real option."   
"Wouldn't it be better to find someone with no association to you, or Doctor Lecter?"   
"Someone who doesn't know me? No, I don't think so."   
Alana rubbed her temples with one hand and sighed again.   
"Please. If I have to get down on my knees and beg, I will."   
"Perhaps someone in the FBI could-…"   
"No. There's only a handful of people I know I can trust, and you're at the top of that list, Alana." Will took a few steps closer to her, using his best reasoning skills and his ability to look like a lost puppy. "I know there's the whole confidentiality clause, but..." He shook his head and sighed. "...I don't think people like Kade Purnell would care about that if it meant having me thrown back into the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane."   
He let his words hang in the air, making sure to keep his head down, though he was still able to glance up at Alana through his hair without her seeing. She looked deep in thought; he was hoping he had appealed to their old friendship, as well as her own curiosity. He only had one more trick up his sleeve and he was hoping to save that particular one for Molly.   
Eventually, though, Alana seemed to reach a decision, and it was one that Will liked very much.   
"Alright. I'll agree to be your psychiatrist as long as you agree not to mention Doctor Lecter's first name."   
"Really? That's your only condition?"   
"His name has passed my lips far too often lately, and I don't want him infecting my work space as well."   
Infecting. Will wrinkled his nose slightly at that remark, but otherwise agreed. Alana set up a date for their first appointment, and she also informed will that she would be contacting the FBI herself to let them know that she was on board. Will thanked her enthusiastically and they embraced at the door. As Will started down the steps towards his car, Alana hurried down to catch up with him, tapping his arm to get his attention.   
"All of this to get your old job back? You live in Maine now, right? Isn't it an awfully long journey every day?"   
"Oh, I won't be travelling back and forth every day."   
"Where will you be staying?"   
"Hannibal left everything to me. I'm staying at his house."   
Without waiting for more of a response, Will said his goodbyes and left with a smile, leaving Alana looking dumbstruck on the steps. Her facial expression didn't change even as Will waved back to her from the car, and he added her standing there to his memory banks. He was looking forwards to starting his sessions.


	7. Chapter 7

It took exactly three weeks for the board to finally decide to allow Will to return to work. He had spent two of those weeks in Baltimore, anxiously waiting for the result. Not that his wait was spent doing nothing, of course; he cleaned Hannibal's house from top to bottom, restocked all of the cupboards and drawers, as well as the pantry, fridges and freezers. He was sure to leave a little room in one of the freezers, and he told himself quite often that the time would come when he would be able to adequately fill it. The week he had spent with Molly had been tense and strained, mostly because he was pre-occupied with returning to work. They tried to be cordial towards one another, but they spent most of their time either arguing or being apart. Walt, finding himself stuck in the middle, had resorted to spending more and more time in his room.   
But Will didn't have to worry about that anymore, and he celebrated being able to go back to work by getting blind drunk and crying into one of Hannibal's old shirts. He woke up with a pounding headache on the bedroom floor in a tangle of blankets. He arranged his first appointment with Alana for the day before his first day back at work, and he was more than ready for it. 

 

"Good afternoon, Will."   
"Afternoon, Margot."   
Margot was looking as fabulous as ever in a well-tailored pant suit. She sipped tea from her cup, peering at Will over the rim. Her eyes were narrow, and though he wasn't looking directly at her, he knew she was judging him. And he was hardly surprised.   
"Your son is-…?"   
"With his tutor."   
"Ah. Of course. No use in sending him to public school."   
"Definitely not."   
Will nodded and turned, looking around the room so he could hide his smirk. There was something in Margot's voice that he'd only heard once before. It was something like fear, but not quite.   
"You look different, Will."   
"Well, times have changed. I figured I should change with it."   
"Mm."   
He heard the gentle clink of her setting her cup on the saucer, though she didn't take her eyes off of him for even a moment. He could almost hear her heart beating in her chest.   
"Sorry for keeping you waiting, Will, I had to make a…"   
Alana was cut short when her eyes landed on Will. Even from behind she could see the huge difference in...well, everything about him. It was only when he turned to face her with that smile on his face that she felt her breath being snatched away from her.   
"...call..."   
"No need for apologies, Alana. We're on your time as much as mine."   
Alana and Margot exchanged a glance before Alana tried to make herself seem more professional. "Shall we?"   
She indicated for them to leave the room and head for her office. Will obliged, leading the way. He heard a snatch of whispers behind him before Alana's heels joined his, clicking on the highly polished floor. While Will smiled his way to the room, Alana looked horrified. Her stomach was his knots, and she was sure she was about to vomit. She only realised when she reached to close the door behind them both that her entire body was trembling.   
"Alana? Are you alright?"   
Will had stepped closer to her, and that smell... _his smell_...flowed into her nostrils. She swallowed hard and forced a smile onto her face before she turned.   
"Perfectly fine, Will. Shall we begin?"   
Alana indicated to a chair, and Will stepped over to it before sitting down, his back to her. She was relieved for this moment, and she closed her eyes, steeling herself. She knew that there had been a change in Will; she had expected it. But this? The shoes and trousers Will was wearing were the right style, but fit his frame far too well to actually have been _his_. The hair cut wasn't quite the same, but given the way Will's curls tended to sit casually on his forehead, she wasn't surprised. But the shirt, and waistcoat and the jacket? They were all Hannibal's. She knew, because she had seen them on the man. She knew, because she had handled them, removed them from Hannibal's body before they'd made love. She had worn the shirt, felt the fabric rest against her skin. She dared not breathe in too deeply in fear that that smell, Hannibal's smell, would be the only thing her nose would ever detect, that it would blot out all of the other wonderful scents in the world. She opened her eyes and walked to her seat, lifting her clipboard and pen, setting it against her thigh after she crossed her legs. She looked over at Will who was smiling serenely at her, as though his clothes and even his mannerisms were perfectly natural to him. Had he ever sat like that before, with his legs crossed? She was sure he had only ever sat with his legs open, at ease and yet tense, inviting and at the same time, distant. This Will Graham was confident, sure in his actions and words and, most importantly, _maintaining eye contact_. 

This wasn't Will; this was all Hannibal. 

By the end of their hour together, Alana was more than one hundred percent certain that the incident with Francis Dolarhyde, the fall from the bluff, the coma and the resulting loss of Hannibal Lecter had finally managed to fully fracture Will's already fragile mind. And yet, he seemed perfectly at ease with everything. It was a side to the man she had never seen before, and aside from his obviously unhealthy coping mechanisms to losing Hannibal, she had no choice other than to deem him fit for work.   
Margot found Alana still in her office, sitting against her desk, looking very much like she had seen a ghost. Will had left her breathless again, by leaning in and kissing her cheek before he left, and for a fleeting moment, memories stirred in her mind of being with Hannibal, feeling his touch, his tender embrace. The memory of his kiss had mixed with her memory of kissing Will and she was left feeling somewhat dazed, unsteady on her feet. She mostly felt sick that she had had an association with either of them. When she had finally been able to come out of her reverie she had showered twice, and yet still couldn't rid herself of that smell.


	8. Chapter 8

"Good morning, Will." 

"Morning, Jack." 

Jack Crawford didn't immediately look up from his desk when Will arrived for his first official day back, but when he did, the look on his face was worth it. Will straightened himself to his full height, his hands in his trouser pockets, his hair immaculate, his clothes very well-tailored. If Jack wasn't completely sure that Hannibal had been cremated, he would have called security. His eyes played tricks on him, and for a few moments it looked like Hannibal was standing there and not Will, though he knew that wasn't true. Still, the fact remained. 

"You look...different." 

"I fancied a change." 

The only things about Will Graham that correlated with Jack's memory of him were his glasses and his accent. Everything else...even the smile...it made Jack nervous. Yet he had read Alana's evaluation and the report from the Chief General's office and Will was perfectly sane enough to return to work. He had a feeling thing would change once everyone saw how the man had changed seemingly everything about himself. 

"Do you have any cases on the go, Jack?" 

"Always. Never a dull moment for the FBI." 

Will chuckled. "That's certainly true." 

"Shall we, then?" 

Will nodded as Jack led the way back out of his office. He was filled in on everything as they got into Jack's car; a man in his forties had been found with a single gunshot wound to the head, his entire house ransacked and his car stolen. It was the third such crime that had been committed since the New Year, and though Will had heard snippets about it on the news, he didn't really know the full story. He was grateful for Jack filling him in, but truth be told he didn't really want to be on the case to catch the killer. He just wanted to, somehow, feel closer to Hannibal. Being so close to death sounded like a good way to go about it. 

He received a far few sideways glances when he arrived on scene, though he ignored all of that as he walked up to the house. A few people stopped what they were doing to look round at him, and he ignored them too. The only people he acknowledged were Jimmy and Brian. He snapped on a pair of gloves as he entered the home, scanning the area as he always did. The man's body was in the dining room, slouched over the table, which was covered in a thick, dark layer of blood. There was more blood on the floor and the obvious spray of a shot to the head on the wall behind him. He breathed in deeply, the metallic tang of blood making his own heart beat faster. 

"Everyone out." 

Jack waited for the other members of the team to leave before he followed, closing the dining room door behind him. Will closed his eyes; the familiar and somewhat comforting sight of the pendulum filling his vision. He opened his eyes. 

"I enter the house without issue; the occupant is expecting me. I see him, seated at the table, and I approach him calmly." 

He started towards, then around the dining table, where the man was sitting. "We share words, and he doesn't try to defend himself, even when I draw my gun. I raise it and shoot him once. The bullet enters the frontal lobe and exits via the occipital lobe. I retrieve the shell." 

"That's a lovely suit, Will." 

Will turns sharply. Standing by the dining room door is Hannibal, resplendent in his usual attire. He looks well rested, well fed and comfortable. He looks exactly how Will imagined he did while he was in his coma. 

"Ha...Hannibal?" 

"Hello, Will. It's good to see you." 

"H...how are you here?" 

"You imagined me here." 

Will swallowed and looked around himself; the scene was exactly the same as he had been imagining it, except it was slightly darker. And Hannibal was there. 

"I'm the part of you that refuses to let me go. I'm glad you finally let me out." 

"Hannibal..." Will's eyes were filling with tears, but he didn't move. He didn't know what to do with himself. 

"Not quite, but I will happily, and graciously, accept that role. Those shoes are magnificent, by the way." 

Will looked down at his feet with a laugh, then back up again. He took a step towards Hannibal, holding onto the chairs at the table to support himself. "If I imagined you here...can I touch you?" 

"I would assume so. We are in your imagination, after all." 

Will took another few steps towards Hannibal, having to constantly blink away tears. "I've thought about you a lot, you know." 

Hannibal nodded solemnly. "I didn't want to leave you alone, Will. You should know that." 

Will stopped, gripping a table tightly. "I'm just imagining you saying that..." 

"Yes, but that doesn't make it any less true. You know me, Will. You see me clearer anybody else. You know what I would and wouldn't say to you." 

Will sniffed, finally stepping in front of Hannibal. He looked up at the man who had caused him so much pain, but who had brought him so much joy. He felt like his heart was going to burst. "I miss you." 

"I miss you, too." 

Will finally succumbed to his emotions and he let the tears fall freely as he settled himself against Hannibal's chest, closing his eyes and breathing in the other male's scent deeply. "I miss you, so much, Hannibal. You don't know what it's been like." 

Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will and gently stroked his head. 

"Waking up every morning knowing that you aren't in the world anymore...not waking up next to you...I can't take it." 

"You have to, Will. You have to be strong, for the both of us." 

Will sobbed and held onto Hannibal tighter. 

"Your true self is still hiding. You have to complete your becoming." 

"I can't...not without you...I don't know how." 

Hannibal took Will's face gently in his hands, locking eyes with him. "You can, Will. I will be here guiding you every step of the way. You know what I would do. You really do." 

He brought Will's face closer to his own. Will closed his eyes, a small whimper escaping him, but just before their lips met, the illusion was broken by the sound of the dining room door opening. Will's eyes snapped open and he found himself standing in the corner of the room, exactly where he had imagined Hannibal. He took around himself to find Jack's slightly confused looking face peering at him. 

"Well?" 

Suddenly aware that his face was wet, Will turned and removed his glasses, taking the opportunity to make it look like he was cleaning them. He hastily palmed his cheeks dry before replacing his glasses and giving his oral report to Jack. Once he had done, and he was satisfied with what he'd said, he excused himself and went outside. He removed his glasses again, folding them and tucking them into his pocket. He then stood with his hands on his hips, breathing in deeply. He got a few more looks, but he ignored them all again. As a grin formed on his lips he walked to Jack's car and leaned against it, staring down at the ground. His grin turned to a full smile, and before he knew it he was laughing lightly. 

"This is my design..." He muttered, closing his eyes. He could almost feel Hannibal standing beside him, his arms by his sides, looking around at all the faces, just like he used to. Will felt himself again; he felt whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> daddy's back! ...well, sort of...


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if you prefer the layout of the writing like this, rather than how it used to be, let me know :3

Will did not sleep soundly that night. 

He had been feeling elated, if not a little sad, after finishing his first day back with the FBI, and he had called Molly to let her know how it went as soon as he had arrived at Hannibal's house. He cooked himself a meal, then settled down and started reading one of Hannibal's books. At around half past eight, he showered, changed and climbed into bed. Though he yawned and felt tired as he turned off the bedside lamp, sleep did not come easily. And went it did, it was a horrible combination of images that had him tossing and turning for most of the night. Hannibal's body, grey, stiff and lifeless, the dead eyes staring up at him from the gurney. As Will turned away from it, he could hear Hannibal's voice echoing through the room, not saying anything in particular but sounding menacing all the same. When he turned, Hannibal's corpse was sitting up, and he looked at Will before sliding off the gurney, leaving wet footprints in his wake. He started coming towards Will, the wound inflicted by Dolarhyde on his stomach splitting open. A torrent of water flowed out, eventually turning pink before it was replaced by blood, and it was filling the room. Will was drowning in this putrid, blood and salt water combination as Hannibal loomed over him, forcing him down, down into the water. 

Will jerked awake, coughing. His body was sure he had been drowning, but he was just drenched in his own sweat. He struggled to a sitting position and reached out for the lamp. When the room was filled with light, he looked around himself. He was very much alone, and he didn't know if he felt better knowing that, or worse. There wasn't even a dog for him to cuddle up to, and he made a mental note to change that. 

Despite being a grown man, knowing that what was in his nightmares couldn't possibly hurt him, he couldn't bring himself to get out of bed. Just peering at the edge made him feel sick, and he settled back against the sheets, even though he had started shivering. He lay there for what felt like hours, with the light of the lamp banishing the shadows directly around him, staring at nothing. When he finally managed to fall back to sleep, his dreams were, mercifully, blank. 

 

He woke up the next morning unable to remember the dream, but feeling uneasy all the same. He showered and changed his sheets, then thought about breakfast. He found he was unable to stomach the thought, so decided against it. He grabbed his jacket and briefcase and headed out of the door. He found his car keys that he had tucked into his jacket the night before and climbed into his car. He looked up at the house before he started the engine, wondering if living there on and off was really a good idea. 

"Of course, it is." He heard himself say. "I couldn't very well go back to Maine every night. Besides, I like that house." 

He gave a nod and started the car. He mumbled to himself about the house the whole way to the FBI building, and it was only when he got out of it again that he stopped. He really didn't want to go back to Maine at the best of times, so travelling there and back every day didn't sound like something he would willingly take part in. Ever. He let out a sigh and locked the car, then headed into the building. He was halfway to his lecture hall when Jack caught up with him. 

"What happened with you yesterday?" 

"Keeping a sharper eye on me, Jack?" 

"I worry about you, Will. Is that allowed?" 

"Of course, it is." 

"Well then, what happened? You weren't quite..." 

"Myself? My apologies about that. I guess I hadn't really steeled my mind properly beforehand." 

Jack didn't look entirely convinced. 

"It's been a long time since I last had to use my empathy skills, Jack. The last time I thought I was doing it, I was actually asleep, so it didn't really count. I guess I was a little rusty, all things considered." 

"I suppose." 

Will smiled, then started towards the lecture hall. He stopped after a few paces, however, and turned back to Jack. 

"Oh, Jack, just for future reference?" 

"Yes, Will?" 

"Don't just burst into my crime scene like that again, okay? You broke my concentration." Will didn't wait for any kind of response before he turned again, smirking to himself. 

 

-/- 

 

There was another murder before they caught the man involved, only this time, there were three bodies at the crime scene instead of one. Will had just finished reading through the files of the last few crime scenes, when Jack entered the room, tugging on his jacket. 

"We've got another one. Three dead; perpetrator got away again." 

Will neatly stacked the files back up again before tugging on his own jacket and following Jack to his car. On the drive they speculated about motives, ties to the previous scenes and how they would be able to catch the guy, but all Will could think about was Hannibal. He was going to see him again, he was sure of it, and this time he knew he would be allowed to have longer alone with him. He didn't care about the people who had been killed; in fact, he felt absolutely nothing about their plight. He was so focused on Hannibal that he dropped the ball of the conversation once or twice and had to rouse himself out of his thoughts in order to give his insight. Apparently, Jack was too excited about where they were going to care, or he noticed but chose not to say anything. 

Once the car had stopped, he climbed out and started towards the house almost like he was floating. His body was acting on autopilot, and if his face was giving away just how many butterflies were fluttering around in his stomach, nobody said anything. He barely even registered the crime scene itself, but of course, everyone just took that as part of his routine. He stood in the living room, not seeing the bodies of the family littered about the room; not seeing the gore that was splattered over the walls, the furniture and the carpet. He went straight into it, letting the pendulum swing beneath his closed eyelids, the anticipation building in his stomach. When he opened his eyes and the room came into sharp focus, he couldn't help his grin any longer. Still he ignored the scene itself and immediately began looking for Hannibal. He turned, looking in every direction, his eagerness building. But Hannibal didn't appear. He didn't even hear his voice. He kept looking round the room, until it finally dawned on him that Hannibal wasn't coming. He let out a heavy sigh and returned himself to reality. He then took in the room before starting his process all over again. 

It was the same set of events as the previous house, but with the added complication of more family members. The father, mother and son had been shot dead. It was more brutal than the last killing, purely because of the loss of life. Will took his usual role. He went through everything without really hearing himself. He already had links to all of the deaths, probably more detail than the FBI had. He was just going through the motions to make sure he got it right. 

"This is my design." He sighed. 

It was then that he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he didn't need to look all the way to know it was Hannibal. He would recognise those knuckles anywhere, would be able to tell by the squeeze on his shoulder alone that it was Hannibal. He smiled lightly to himself and bowed his head, then opened his eyes. He lightly touched his shoulder with his fingertips, feeling a little lost upon finding nothing except his jacket, but he was reassured all the same. He couldn't force Hannibal to come forward in his mind, he had to guide him there, let him back in slowly. 

"Jack..." He called.


	10. Chapter 10

They tracked down the killer to his car dealership. All of the victims had bought a car from him, which he had sold to them only to steal back in an attempt to sell the cars again. That, and he had a bit of a fondness for killing. He was linked to several dead-end cases from over a decade before, and he was dragged into a cell. Everyone involved congratulated themselves on a job well done, though Will was rather put out that he hadn't been able to shoot anyone. The guy had given himself up as soon as he heard the sirens approaching, confessed to the whole lot and said he was done with it all anyway. Will watched the exchange between the man and Jack with an eyebrow raised. He commented afterwards about how it was probably the easiest arrest they had ever made, and Jack agreed. Not long after that, Will found himself driving back to Hannibal's house, though he sat outside for a while, just thinking. 

Why would he have given himself up so easily? So, he'd planned to run but had left it too late to do so; he still could've gone down in a blaze of glory. Why just stop? Will shook his head and climbed out of the car. When he was safely inside the house again he let out a heavy sigh and headed towards the kitchen. 

"I don't get it." He announced to the silence as he got himself a glass tumbler from the cupboard. "You go around killing people, and then just stop, just like that?" He snapped his fingers, then found a bottle of whisky before walking through to the living room. He opened the bottle with his teeth, spitting the lid God knew where and pouring himself a healthy measure of the amber liquid before sitting down. "On a roll, he was. He was getting away with it until I came along and put all the pieces together." He threw back almost half of the contents of his glass before topping it up again. "I would never just give up like that." 

He drank more of the whisky and went to fill his glass up again when he paused, the bottle neck resting against the rim of his glass. He frowned, tilting his head to one side, then lowered the bottle and let it rest against his thigh. "Wouldn't I?" 

He looked down at his lap, then to his side. For a moment he imagined Hannibal was sitting there, legs crossed as usual, smiling at him over the rim of his own glass, but when he blinked the vision was gone. 

"What _would_ I do?" 

He turned his head again, staring at the fireplace. He slowly raised his glass to his lips and took a sip. "I wouldn't give up so easily, that's for sure. And I sure as well wouldn't leave any evidence behind, or anything that could be traced back to me." He scoffed. "That's obvious, of course." He drank some more whisky and got more settled. "I know crime scenes and I know how the FBI work. I could get away with it." 

He glanced to his side again, wondering just what Hannibal would have to say. He'd be thrilled, no doubt, with Will's sudden desires. Would he be Will's guiding hand, taking him through the necessary steps? Most likely. And who was to say he couldn't be still? 

Feeling more excited than he had ever been, Will got to his feet. He drained his glass and set it down on the table, then started undressing as he headed for the bathroom. He showered and went to bed without eating. He slept soundly, dreaming about Hannibal again but this time it was a dream full of love, and he and Hannibal were back in the cabin. Abigail was with them, and Will was finally able to teach her how to fish while Hannibal taught them both how to get away with murder.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi! sorry i've been MIA for so long; my creativity levels took a massive hit, and then i got obsessed with netflix -cough-daredevilandpunisher-cough- and i was focused on them for a while but hopefully i'm back now! been stuck in the endless loop that is roleplay since just before christmas and that also took a lot of my charge for long distance writing off as well.

"What are you doing, Will?"  
"Huh?"  
Will blinked and looked up. Hannibal was standing in front of him, his hands clasped behind his back, watching Will with his head tilted to one side. He looked resplendent in one of Will's favourite suits, but there was an obvious blood stain on the collar Will couldn't remember ever seeing there.  
"What are you doing?" Hannibal asked again, narrowing his eyes slightly.  
What _was_ he doing?  
Will looked down at his hands and they were covered in blood. Was it _his_ blood? No, not his blood. Then whose?  
He looked up at Hannibal again and was surprised to see the man tutting and shaking his head. "Such a messy boy you are, Will. I expected more from you. Especially after Dolarhyde."  
"What?" It was Will's turn to narrow his eyes, and he looked at his hands again. But then his eyes focused on the ground that was blurred beneath his hands, which were in sharp focus. He shook his own head and forced himself to look, to _really_ look. Not his blood. And that gargling sound, that wasn't his either. And the body under him, that most certainly wasn't his. He blinked and he found himself in a room that he didn't recognise. A dining room. Hannibal was still standing in front of him, looking down at Will and the gargling figure lying between Will's thighs. "Where am I?"  
Will looked up, then around the room before back down to the figure. It was a woman, and she was staring up at Will with a look of abject terror on her face. And there was blood streaming from her mouth and the open wound in her neck, but as the gargling sounds quietened, the light in her eyes dimmed.  
"You wasted too much time, Will. She's dead. The meat will be spoiled."  
"No! No! Don't say that!"  
Will lifted up his knife again, everything coming into sharper relief. The more he talked to Hannibal, the more things seemed to come back to him. "There's still time."  
"No. The heart has stopped. Look."  
It was true. The woman was dead. Will swore loudly.  
"Not only that, but you wasted time between the initial cut and the kill. Just go. There will be another one. Another time."  
"No!" Will looked up at Hannibal, who scowled at him for being spoken to like that. "I came here for a purpose. I had a reason. I'm not leaving empty handed."  
And he didn't. He cut into the woman and removed her liver. It was hard work, as Will discovered. Hannibal had always made it seem so easy, but there was a lot more effort involved and by the time Will had finished with the woman's body, he felt about ready to curl up and sleep. But he couldn't; he forced himself to stay awake, to make one final check of the house to make sure he'd left no physical evidence linking him to the crime, then left.  
The easy part was getting back to his house. To Hannibal's house. To _their_ house.  
He stripped off his bloody clothes as he walked through the house, only turning on the kitchen light. He collected a pan, salt, pepper and an onion. He cut up the onion, dropped them in the pan and turned up the heat. Once they'd browned he added the liver, seasoned with salt and pepper. Hannibal watched, his nose in the air, anticipating the moment he knew he would be proven right.  
Will didn't even bother getting himself a plate; he took the pan straight from the heat to the table, grabbing himself a knife. Hannibal followed, shrugging off his coat. Will sat at the table, sliced a strip of the meat and ate it from the pan. It didn't take long for him to realise what Hannibal meant. The meat was bitter yet tasteless and tough. He swallowed the mouthful and stared down at the pan, suddenly feeling sick. He then flung the pan across the room, sending onions in all directions. Hannibal let out a heavy sigh.  
"I told you."  
Will slowly sat back down again with a heavy sigh.  
"In the meat industry, that would be unsellable. Too much lactic acid released into the body before the time of death due to stress and fear. There was no way she was going to die easy, but you could have done it quicker, Will. You had gained her trust in those first few moments. She would not have anticipated your actions until it was too late. And you would not have spoiled the meat."  
"Shut up!"  
Will turned, screaming in Hannibal's direction, but he found himself alone. As he breathed heavily, a single tear rolling down his cheek, Will closed his eyes.  
He had absolutely no recollection of how he got to bed that night, but when he opened his eyes again he was standing back in that dining room with Jack by his side. Jack was talking, but it sounded like he was a very long way away, rather than right next to him. Slowly, ever so slowly, Jack's voice grew louder until Will was well and truly back in the room.  
He was consulting on his own crime scene.


	12. Chapter 12

"Will?"  
"Yes, Jack?"  
"Do you want the space?"  
"Yes please."  
Will removed his glasses as the other members of the team left, Jack being the last to go, closing the door behind him. He waited until he was sure he wouldn't be overheard and let out a heavy sigh, then a small laugh, which he had to stifle behind his hand. When he looked up again, Hannibal was standing there, smiling. He looked the same as he usually did but...his hair was dishevelled and he was no longer wearing his jacket, which meant Will could see that his shirt was dotted with blood. Other than that, though, he was the same. And he was beaming at Will with pride. As Will watched, a tear rolled down his cheek.  
"You're crying."  
"I'm so happy for you, Will. My heart is so full I fear it might burst."  
"I don't remember you being quite so poetic. Weren't metaphors more your thing?"  
"You just weren't listening well enough."  
The two men smiled at each other over the corpse of the woman that Will had murdered. Her eyes were blank and staring almost accusingly up at them both, and Will let out another laugh.  
"They don't suspect you."  
"No." Will smiled across at Hannibal. "At least, I don't think they do."  
"They don't. You did a very good job at covering your tracks last night. No fingerprints, no footprints, no sign of forced entry. No motive. Just cold-blooded murder."  
"Something that happens every day in this wonderful country of ours."  
"Yes indeed. Something that lines Jack Crawford's pockets."  
Will giggled. He studied Hannibal for a few moments, swallowing a lump in his throat. "All in all, I did well."  
"You did _very_ well, Will. Much better than I could have anticipated."  
"Thank you."  
"Just...with the obvious exception..."  
"Try not to think about that for now, Will. Let that be a learning curve for later."  
"Yes."  
Hannibal smiled again, the pride still evident on his face. Will looked down at the body of the woman and the two of them fell silent. Will let his mind wander, going through the events of the night before.  
He had chosen her completely at random as she walked through the park, and he followed her home. He was thrilled to discover that she lived alone and had no pets as well as no obvious ties to her neighbours. As he returned home, he thought of the best way to get inside her house. Trying anything on her doorstep would no doubt attract attention, and he didn't want that. No, it would have to be inside the house, even if he didn't have much time in which to plan exactly what he was going to do, he knew that much. And so, the events unfolded of their own accord.  
He had lost his dog and was going from door to door asking people if they had seen him. He had been knocking and asking _all day_ and he was exhausted but the dog was just that dear to him that he couldn't bear the thought of it being alone at night. And the woman had been so trusting and so damn gullible that she'd even _invited_ Will into her house. It was as the door swung closed behind him that he reached out and grabbed her; the only thing he couldn't have foreseen was that she had a mirror in her hallway and saw him. She had tried to turn, yet couldn't, and she ended up just trying to fight him off, apparently too surprised to scream. They struggled, knocking into various pieces of furniture before they ended up in the dining room, where he'd slit her throat and gently, almost lovingly, lowered her to the floor before straddling her, and it was then that he lost his grip on reality and blacked out, only brought to by Hannibal's sudden appearance in the room. It had only been a few seconds, perhaps a minute at most, but it had been long enough for all of his hard work to be wasted.  
He swore under his breath and looked up; Hannibal was looking at him, a look of pity on his lined face. "Still. There's always next time."  
"Yes. Next time."  
"Confidence is the key in this, Will. You have to know when to strike and where. It's better to take your victims by surprise; give them enough chance and they will either scream out for help or defend themselves. Being caught or leaving anything incriminating behind is not something I will allow for you."  
Will swallowed.  
"If you end up back in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, it had better be because Jack finally reached the same level of intelligence that you are on. Not because of your own foolish actions. Are we clear?"  
"Yes."  
"Even if I would much rather you were dead. Then we could be together again."  
"Yes." There was a sudden hint if desperation in Will's voice, and the look of pity on Hannibal's face only increased in its intensity. "I miss you."  
"I know you do...but those memories you have of our life together were entirely fictitious. It was all in your head. Just like this conversation."  
With a gasp, Will straightened up and Hannibal was gone. Will's cheeks were wet, and he hastily wiped his face before leaving the room.  
"Well?" Jack had evidently been waiting for him at the end of the hall. He closed the gap between them and Will breathed in deeply before he begun.  
"The killer must've gained her trust at the door, otherwise there would be more signs of a struggle."  
"Perhaps someone she knew?"  
"Possibly. We should check to see if she had any recent ex partners, someone who may hold a grudge."  
"Yes. Go on."  
"Something happened halfway down the hall, most likely when the door closed, or someone would have heard. Or seen." Will glanced down the hall to the front door, which was wide open, people bustling in and out. "She would have seen their actions in the mirror..." Which he was standing directly in front of; he stared at his own reflection for a few moments, almost certain he smirked at himself before turning back to Jack. "...so, she was alerted to their true intentions. They proceeded into the dining room, where her assailant cut through her carotid artery, most likely from behind given the spray." He breathed in deeply.  
"Any ideas about the post mortem wounds?"  
"I can answer that."  
Will turned, startled to find Jimmy Price kneeling inches away from where he had been just the night before. He urged them closer.  
"Looks like our killer took himself a little souvenir."  
Jimmy looked from the body to Jack, then to Will. "Her liver is missing."  
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Jimmy!"  
"I'm just giving you the facts here, Jack."  
"Her...her liver is missing?" Will mentally praised himself for the sound of disgust and horror in his voice. "Are you certain?"  
"Absolutely." Jimmy let out a heavy sigh. "I almost can't believe it, and it's staring me in the face."  
"What are we looking at here, then?" Will looked from Jimmy to Jack. " _Another_ copycat?"  
"If I hadn't done Hannibal's autopsy myself, I would be blaming him already."  
Will shot Jimmy a look that he hoped the man didn't notice before turning back to Jack. "Well?"  
"I refuse to believe it's another copycat, not after all this time."  
"But, Jack-…"  
" _No_ , Will! There are plenty of sick sons of bitches out there without everything being linked back to Hannibal Lecter!"  
"I _know_ that, but we all suspect Hannibal had fans! _Has_ fans!"  
"No! This has nothing to do with Lecter. Nothing at all!"  
"But, Jack!"  
"That's enough. You're done here, Will. Get out."  
With a final desperate look, Will left the house, stripping off his gloves as he went. He was seething that Jack had dismissed him like that. It was his crime scene after all, his murder. If anybody should be forced to leave it should be Jack! He even had half a mind to go back and tell him that, but when he saw Hannibal leaning against the coroner's van, his arms folded, he just kept walking.  
"What would that achieve, your marching back in there and saying any of that? You'd be sitting in the back of Jack's car before you could say cannibalism."  
"Oh, ha, ha." Will retorted dryly, heading for his own car.  
"I'm being serious, Will. You need to keep that temper in check if you don't want Jack to start suspecting you."  
"You sound like me." Will looked at Hannibal as he unlocked his car door.  
"Well, what do you expect me to say, Will? You brought me here."  
Letting out a frustrated grunt, Will wrenched open the door and got into the car.


End file.
